


Julia

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Miranda [7]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fish out of Water, Imprinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crewmember has her eye on Malcolm Reed. But he’s a package deal with Miranda, and the young woman is not always easy to deal with. This story is unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Julia

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.
> 
> Note: This story is unfinished.

Julia reached for the door chime, for the third time, and finally pushed it, chiding herself for her nervousness. She was pinning too much hope on this simple little endeavor, she told herself, and that had never led to good results in the past. She needed to calm down and be a little more casual, at least until she knew how things stood. Still, her stomach fluttered in anticipation as she waited for the door to open, knowing that a simple little endeavor could take so many different turns in the future.

A certain petite blond answering the door was not one of the scenarios Julia had envisioned, though. Especially not when said blond was wearing only a large t-shirt.

"Miranda," Julia remarked, startled beyond any other statement.

"Yes," the young woman confirmed, as if it were perfectly normal for people to come to her door and ask her identity.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Julia finally stammered, smiling awkwardly. "I must have gotten the wrong cabin, I thought this was Lieutenant—"

"Lieutenant Scott," said Lt. Reed, surprised but pleased, appearing in the doorway behind Miranda. The blond stepped out of his way, giving Julia an even better view of the loose-fitting, casual outfit the Englishman was sporting. And also his bare feet.

Was _this_ what Commander Tucker had meant when he said Lt. Reed and Miranda's relationship was 'complicated'? Because there were shorter words Julia could think of to describe it.

"I was just looking for you," Julia admitted, thoroughly confused. "I thought I had the wrong cabin."

"No, this is it," Malcolm confirmed. He saw the redhead glancing over his shoulder at something and turned back; Miranda was curled up at the chair in front of the computer, reading from the screen.

Reed stepped forward, out into the hall, and there was a bit of awkward-pleasant maneuvering with Julia. The door slid shut behind him, leaving them in relative privacy. If you could count the hallway as private.

"I didna mean to disturb you," Julia apologized, starting to cut her losses. "I've come at a bad time, I'll just—"

"No, not at all," Malcolm assured her. "In fact I can't think of a bad time for you to—Right." He stopped as he realized how the rest of his comment would sound, cheeks flushing faintly.

Julia would have found it more endearing if she hadn't seen another woman prancing around half-naked in his quarters. They were quiet for a moment. "Your... assistant—she lives... nearby?" she asked hopefully.

"No, Miranda lives with me," Malcolm corrected matter-of-factly. "But it's nothing like— _that_ ," he added quickly, not used to needing or wanting to explain things. "It's—complicated," he finally tried.

"So I've heard." Another pause. They both shifted awkwardly on the deck plating. "Anyway, I was just going to ask you if you wanted to go to Movie Night tonight, but it looks like you're ready to turn in, so..."

"No!" Malcolm insisted, a bit more forcefully than necessary. "I mean, um, well I'd love to go to Movie Night, actually," he clarified, clearing his throat. "In fact I was just thinking about going." Which was an utter lie, and a transparent one at that, but it made Julia smile a little.

"Alright then, great," she agreed.

"I'll just change quickly," he told her, oddly reluctant to leave. "Right, just a second." Malcolm popped back through the doors to his quarters and immediately began digging through his closet. "D—n, what should I wear?" he muttered, a little frantically.

Miranda sensed that he wanted to impress this woman, but without _looking_ like he was trying to impress her. The emotions the human mind came up with never ceased to amaze her. She jumped up from her chair and opened the second drawer in the bureau, pulling a dark blue t‑shirt from the bottom of the pile on the left. "You should wear _this_ ," she told him authoritatively, handing it to him as she pushed him out of the way of the closet.

"Are you sure?" he asked uncertainly, unfolding the shirt and holding it up. "Isn't this the one that shrunk a bit a few washes ago?"

"Yes," Miranda agreed. "The last time you wore it you received a number of admiring glances."

"Really? Hmmm." He laid the shirt across the bed and sprinted into the bathroom for a few last-minute touch-ups.

"And you should wear the grey pants," she decided, pulling them from their hanger in the closet and adding them to the bed. She also set out a pair of socks and put his boots within reach. If he wanted her to dress him, she would do that, too, but so far he had never deemed that necessary.

Malcolm was already stripping as he exited the bathroom, hurriedly exchanging the old clothes for the new. Miranda took the pajamas/loungewear from him automatically and, remembering exactly how long he had worn them since the last wash, decided they could go a little longer and laid them carefully over the now-vacant foot of the bed for later.

"How do I look?" he asked her, presenting himself.

Miranda nodded. "I think you look alright."

High praise indeed. "Julia—Lt. Scott—and I are going to Movie Night," he added. "I hope it's something decent and not some ridiculously weepy love story," he commented as an aside. "Anyway—you stay here, and don't wait up, alright?" Malcolm didn't think they were _quite_ at the stage where they needed to come up with an alternative place for Miranda to sleep just yet.

"Okay," she agreed cheerfully. Malcolm was excited to be going to Movie Night with this woman, so Miranda was excited too. She didn't really understand all the emotions she was sensing from him in this regard, but she knew she would do all she could to help him with whatever he wanted.

"Alright. Bye. Wait, how's my hair?"

"It's okay."

"Okay. I guess that'll do. Bye."

"Bye."

 

"Can I join you?"

"Yes."

Miranda waited until the redhead had settled herself at the small table. "Malcolm's in a meeting over lunch," she informed the woman, watching her closely.

"That's alright," Julia responded cheerfully. "I was actually hoping that _we_ could spend a little time together."

Miranda frowned at her. "Why?"

"Well," Julia began, trying to keep things simple, "you're very important to Malcolm."

"Yes," Miranda agreed.

"And I would like to get to know people who are important to him," Julia concluded, smiling at the blond in what she hoped was a friendly way. It was difficult to know how to talk to her; Malcolm had oh-so-helpfully described her as "like a child, but not." Commander Tucker, more practically, had advised that Miranda hated being condescended to, but you also couldn't expect her to grasp ideas that were very complex, especially about interpersonal relations.

"Hmmm. Okay," Miranda decided. She made no effort to sustain conversation, however, going back to her meal and her data pad.

"Um..." Julia cleared her throat. "So what are you readin' there?"

"Schematics for a new phase pistol design," Miranda told her. She seemed neither bored nor enthused. "Malcolm wants me to make a list of all the ways it's different from the current models."

Julia was moderately impressed. "That sounds like a big job. How's it goin'?"

"I have a list of one hundred thirty-four differences so far," the blond reported. "But I'm only halfway through."

"Very thorough," Lt. Scott complimented her. The young woman seemed not to notice. "So, Miranda," she continued, realizing she'd have to press forward with the 'getting to know you' on her own, "what kind of music do you like?" A little generic, but a good place to start.

Miranda blinked at her, considering the question. "I like loud music where you can't understand the words and everyone seems to be mad about something."

For a long moment Julia was confused, then she understood what the young woman meant. "Oh, you mean that Hardhead stuff Malcolm likes?" Miranda nodded enthusiastically. "Okay," commented Julia, keeping her opinion of the genre to herself. "What kind of movies do you like?"

"Action movies, where stuff blows up, or adventure movies where people have swords, and some scary movies if they have clever puzzles or inventive ways of killing people."

Julia smiled a bit thinly. "That sounds like the kind of movie Malcolm likes."

"Yes," Miranda confirmed.

"Right. What do you like to read?"

"Weapons technical journals and novels about wars that happened a long time ago on Earth."

Julia was beginning to see the pattern here. "Favorite food?"

"Pineapple."

"Enjoy watching any sports?"

"Not really. Sometimes a little cricket or rugby, or martial arts championships."

"I see," Julia nodded. Miranda's answers were almost exactly the same as Malcolm's had been when Julia put the same questions to _him_ —in a less rapid-fire manner, of course. "Hobbies? Besides those already mentioned."

"I like sparring and target practice."

Lt. Scott barely avoided sighing. Commander Tucker had warned her that attempting to get to know Miranda was mostly a futile effort, but she was determined to at least _try_. Julia was a practical woman; she didn't have some delusion that, at this early stage of the game, she and Malcolm were soul mates destined to be together forever. But he had been clear that Miranda was a permanent fixture in his life, and even though _he_ didn't even seem to think it necessary for the blond to be comfortable around Julia, Lt. Scott didn't want to ignore such a major part of Malcolm's life.

"So, Miranda," she continued carefully, "do you have any hobbies or anything you like to do... that Malcolm _doesn't_? That are _different_ from what he likes?" She tried to keep her tone pleasant, not accusatory or mocking.

The pause that met her question was so long Julia thought maybe Miranda wasn't going to answer at all. Maybe Julia had somehow... short-circuited her? And wasn't _that_ going to improve her relationship with Malcolm tremendously.

Finally Miranda seemed to think of something. "I have a bell collection," she revealed, sounding extremely hesitant.

"A-a _what_?" Julia asked, confused but encouraging.

"A collection," Miranda repeated. "Of bells. Malcolm gives them to me."

Julia couldn't remember Lt. Reed mentioning anything like that, which intrigued her even more. "Really."

"Do you... want to see them?" the blond continued slowly, as if she weren't sure this was the proper question to ask.

Julia tried not to seem stunned. This was exactly what she'd been hoping for. "Certainly," she replied, not wanting to appear overly-eager. She didn't want to scare Miranda off, after all.

"Okay. Let's go look at them."

Julia gladly left her lunch half-eaten on the Mess Hall table and followed Miranda out the door. The blond headed unerringly towards the quarters she shared with Lt. Reed. Malcolm had tried his best to explain Miranda's origin to Julia; she vaguely understood the basics of their relationship, but Commander Tucker's adjective of 'complicated' seemed almost ridiculously understated when it came to exactly what transpired between the two. Besides which, all the comparisons either Julia or others came up with seemed insulting: pet? slave? nursemaid? Not to mention inaccurate, at least according to what she'd seen herself.

Miranda keyed the code to the door and let herself and Julia in. Julia had been in Malcolm's quarters before, though _he_ had always been there, so she hadn't exactly been taking in the decor. Everything was spotless, neat, wrinkle-free, perfectly aligned. It would probably have looked the same whether Miranda or Malcolm himself kept it, but Julia knew Miranda had taken over the cleaning duties of their shared space.

Although it didn't _look_ particularly shared, Julia had to admit. Surely in some of the drawers or the closet the young woman had clothing, but standing in the center of the small room, even an attentive observer would have been hard-pressed to find any artifacts that could not easily belong to Lt. Reed.

Miranda was digging in the closet, and Julia turned her attention back to her. It seemed to take several moments before the blond produced a box, an old cargo case from the looks of it, fairly small, and placed it oh so gently on the bed. She dropped to her knees, indicating that Julia should do the same, and proceeded to unlatch the container. Inside were about a dozen bits of metal, wood, stone, and materials as yet unknown, in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. Miranda gave the open box a little shake, and a gentle cacophony of sound rose from it as all the different bells and chimes from a dozen alien cultures played their tunes in unison. Miranda seemed transported by the noise.

When the notes died down Miranda reached in and expertly plucked out a round bell on a bit of cord and wiggled it. A slightly tinny but not unpleasant sound emanated from the metal. "This was the first one Malcolm gave me," she explained to Julia. "I wanted to go with him to the planet but they said I couldn't. He promised to get me a present, and this is what he gave me."

"What planet is it from?" Julia asked, truly interested.

"I don't know," Miranda shrugged. The information did not appear to matter in the slightest to her. She set the chime down gently on the bed and pulled out another, this one golden, bell-shaped, and etched with exotic symbols. "This is the second one Malcolm gave me," she reported happily.

"What do those symbols mean?" Julia probed.

"I don't know." She was totally unconcerned. "I used to wear these two around my wrists, but it was hard to be stealthy with bells on." Julia could agree with that.

What Miranda knew was the exact order in which Malcolm had given her the trinkets, and the particular circumstances Malcolm had been in when he returned from the mission and gave it to her. Number three was especially cherished as he had obtained it for her on a trip lasting several days; she didn't know where he'd gone, of course, but she had missed him terribly. Number seven she couldn't quite embrace as much as the others, as Malcolm had been transported back to the ship seriously injured after that excursion. Number eleven they had picked out together from a market stall. The only one whose origin she could remember anything about was the latest, number thirteen, but only because _Malcolm_ had told her that everyone on the planet wore bells attached to their bodies, and the practice reminded him of her.

"That's all," Miranda finally announced, after she had laid the last one in the neat row on the bed. She started to put them all carefully back into the case, in reverse order.

Julia sat back on the floor, thinking. The whole display had taken ten minutes, at most; not enough time to get bored, even if the stories weren't exactly varied. Mostly Julia was ruminating on how it was possibly the most surreal ten minutes of her life. Miranda being an alien could explain a lot of things, of course, and probably did; but Julia still found it a little disturbing how _completely fixated_ she seemed to be on Malcolm. She barely seemed to have a thought in her head that wasn't about, for, or derived from him. Julia realized that, yet again, Commander Tucker was far more perceptive about the situation than she had at first thought: how _could_ Julia possibly compete with someone whose every waking moment was focused on keeping Malcolm safe and happy? That certainly wasn't a commitment _she_ was prepared to take on, now or in the foreseeable future.

Julia noticed with a start that Miranda had put the box back in the closet and was now sitting on the floor silently, facing her. Waiting.

"That's a lovely collection," Lt. Scott began, sincerely.

"I know."

"Have you ever thought about displayin' them in the cabin somewhere?"

The expression on Miranda's face clearly said no, she _hadn't_ ever thought about that. "Why would I do that?" she asked, curious.

Julia shrugged. It had just been a casual comment, but now that she considered it, it seemed like an obvious thing to do. "They're important to you," she stated, "and if they were out where you could see them every day, they would remind you of happy things whenever you looked at them."

Again Miranda was quiet, contemplating the idea. No one could say she didn't give things due consideration, at least. "I like the bells," she started slowly, "because Malcolm gave them to me. Malcolm reminds me of happy things whenever I look at him. So I don't need to put the bells on display."

Touché. "Miranda," Julia said, taking a deep breath, "you know that I'm not tryin' to compete with you. Right? I _can't_ compete with you for Malcolm."

"I know. You can't." Said with simplicity, a mere statement of fact.

"I'm not tryin' to take Malcolm away from you," Julia insisted, not sure how much was really sinking in. "I'm just—very interested in him, and I like him a lot. I just don't want you to feel, I don't know... threatened by me. Because there's no need for that, truly."

"I don't feel threatened by you," Miranda told her, in the same neutral tone of voice. "Malcolm likes you. So _I_ like you. If Malcolm felt threatened by you, then I would be mad."

Julia had not yet had the privilege of seeing Miranda when she was mad because Malcolm felt threatened. But she had heard stories about it. And to be extremely honest, she was a little creeped out by Miranda's simple statement. It was a little like when her ex-boyfriend's mother had threatened to kill her if she ever broke his heart. Julia had laughed at the time, but after they split up she'd spent a few weeks looking over her shoulder, just in case. But this time she had no intention of laughing, because she knew how excruciatingly serious Miranda was.

"Thank you, for showing me your collection," Julia said politely, climbing to her feet.

Miranda did likewise. "Okay."

"I should really get back to work now," Julia added, maneuvering herself towards the door. She smiled, although she didn't exactly feel like it.

"Okay."

"Nice talking to you."

Miranda cocked her head to the side and didn't answer right away. Julia left before she could come up with a response, if indeed she was planning to.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry the story just ends there.
> 
> That is about it for Miranda. But, there are other Viridians to come.


End file.
